Shift
by beacuz
Summary: "The crown can't save you, only you can." The ultimate sci-fi crossover between The Hunger Games, Divergent and Uglies. I do not own cover photo!
1. Chapter 1

**Meet 782. This feisty 15 year old red head will call you an idiot at first glance. She thinks she can make her way through her messed up dystopian world of perfection by swearing breaking all the rules and not giving a damn about anything. But that only gets her so far When she is purposefully placed into The Shift, her life is flipped upside down. The shift takes her out of dystopia and into the forest where she must fight to the death to survive, and to obtain the crown that declares her permanently free from returning. But what happens when love pulls her in both directions? Can the crown truly save her from the torment of her cruel life?**

* * *

On the verge of tears, I finally realize that I f*cking hate it all. The people, the controlling, the rules and the restrictions. I hate the boring routines and the pressures. But most of all, the open flame that is my burning curiosity.

I want to hide from everything and live by myself in peace. In a world where everything is how I want it to be. I sink deeper into my bed as a failed attempt to do so. Every bit of me wants to slip away into eternal unconsciousness and never wake up. But I can't. I'm not even _allowed_ to.

My hand touches the monitor on my neck and instantly feel uncomfortable. They are monitoring my every move; my actions, my thoughts, my _heartbeat_. I don't feel like I have a private life at all. Everything is so controlled to the point where it makes me sick and frustrated. And I can't do anything about it.

A wet blob forms in my eye but I wipe it away; crying is against one of the million rules. They say there should be no reason for crying, but I feel like there is every reason.

The anger makes me tighten my grip and I tug at the monitor around my neck to the point where it chokes me. The stupid piece of metal is indestructible and extremely suffocating.

I also hate the artificial, rubbery feel everything has to it. The fact that nothing is natural or pure makes me feel uneasy. It's all been processed in some way; coated in this odd rubber and painted in silvery-gray.

The list of things I hate is never-ending. So I think up some more.

There's the air that is so pure; never a speck of dirt floating around. But it has this density to it that I can't stand. It's like living underwater, except the water has no oxygen. There would always be that odd feeling, where I can't tell whether I'm hot or cold. No wind, no rain, no sun, nothing, ever. Just the thick stuff I'm expected to live off of. With every inhale, a strange scent of breath enters my system. Like, actual f*cking breath. Walking outside makes me sick. I have to do it. I'm basically forced to do it. Everyday. But that's not the worst part.

Aside from the lack of oxygen, so much about this place is… off. Outside my window, endless rows of silver sector houses line the streets, probably making this place look like a shiny yet dull grid from above. Every line would be razor sharp and perfectly straight. Every imperfection would be perfected. Nothing is ever out of place. Well, expect for me.

I am the zit on the face of our community. And of course, zits are to be popped. Then, why am I still here?  
That's a question I ask myself every day.

Everyone is supposed to follow the rules. If everyone does what they are supposed to, I guess it would all be okay. If everyone gets their surgeries, does their jobs, attend their classes, stays within boundaries, and remains perfect, everything would be alright. And I guess it sort of is. But not for me. Definitely not for me.

And for that, my life sucks.

Light seeps through the one window in the middle of the wall, covering a corner of the room in a slightly brighter shade of gray. Through that window is the horrid city where one must do what their told to live a half-decent life. And it's bland and colourless; literally. I absolutely loaf everything about it, so I close my eyes. But I know that when I open them, I will still be here, on my bed, in my room, in Sector B, house 14.

This community I live in is perfect, too perfect. I don't believe it one bit and I'm curious to see if there is a way I can escape or at least to alter something, anything.

No matter how exact and under control everything seems, I _know_ something is off. But no one else seems to know it or believe me.

It all started that one night when I was sitting outside of my sector house, forcing myself to adjust to the chunky air. Out of frustration, I looked up and sighed. And through the artificial nighttime brightness, I saw it. A quick and sudden change. A flicker of light. A _fault._ The council never made mistakes, but there it was, way up high. Within that split second, I noticed a weird glistening. Like light reflecting off of water. What was it?

Since that night, I've been thinking of a way to check it out, and tonight I finally will. Of course, without The Council seeing me. That can lead in serious consequences. I'm always aware of staying hidden but at every monthly behavioral conference, they pull out their footage of me doing something against the rules. There are clearly cameras everywhere. The rules are strict but I can't kill my curiosity.

I open my eyes to the metallic silver of my bedroom ceiling. It seems like every item of furniture is silver to match each other. Tonight is the night all my questions will be answered. I figure that there must be some sort of ceiling to the world, like the ceiling in my bedroom, only clear. And all ceilings are connected to walls, so there must be walls to the community. I am going to see for myself if my thoughts are correct. If so, then something major is going on.

But I trust The Council. They mean well. Always. They provide for everyone and keep us safe. They even make these reminders; minute long videos reminding us how much they care. I've been on their side from the beginning, but with these thoughts about them possibly trapping us, I'm not so sure if they're trustworthy.

_No. The members of the council are good people. The Council is good. The Council is great. The Council provides. The Council cares. The Council loves you._

I shake my head violently and curl up with my back against the bed frame. The Council has this way of getting inside of my head, to know what I'm thinking, and to purify my thoughts. When The Council talks to me in that slow, condescending voice, my head feels tight. Their mind talk is this sticky poison that fills my brain. Most say it's good that the council cares enough to help us think straight, but it's just plain creepy. Everything they do.

Time to find out. I hop out of bed and go straight down the grand corridor, skipping my getting ready routine. My red hair is the frizziest it's ever been but I completely ignore it, eager to get outside. Once I am, I remember one thing, my monitor. The piece of blinking metal that grips my neck. It works as many things but unfortunately, works mainly as a tracking device so that The Council can find anyone they want to. It's useless trying to get it off because I know for a fact that it's impossible. I decide to run as fast as I can in one line to hopefully reach an edge. The Council would've noticed the high movement easily, since it is the middle of the night. Smart move.

I race down the street, but it feels like I'm not moving. The only sounds are my breath, loud and puffing, and my fast footsteps. If the council is coming, they wouldn't make sound because they wouldn't want to wake anyone. They would come in their little contraptions on wheels that only make a slight rumbling sound.

Breathing is like trying to swallow my own fist. That's how thick the air is now that I'm running. The houses finally change shade to a darker one, indicating a change of sector. I was now in Sector C. Just as a little bubble of hope begins to float inside of me, I hear the rumbling of The Council, which squashes it. There's no sign of an edge or anything. Maybe I got myself into real trouble this time. People that have majorly screwed up and went full force against the rules, well, nobody ever heard from them again. What's going to happen to me? I already broke more than three rules; no going outside at night, no running, always tie hair to regulation, and more.

I suddenly smack into something hard and flat. The impact sends me stumbling backward, and onto the ground. My body stings and a burning sensation radiates through my body. There's a tickle in my throat which causes me to sputter out something red. What am I feeling? Whatever it is, it makes me want to cry and kill myself to ease the pain. With the ache in my body, I stand up to touch what I had bumped into. It's stained in red in one spot, but the rest is clear. On the other side, is a confusing brown abyss. Stunned, I place my red hand on the clear surface and soak in as much as I can before deciding I have to hide.

I spot a garbage box and jump in it. In the darkness, I question everything I ever believed in. What did I touch? The surface wasn't completely flat, it was more rounded.

A light flashes and a face is revealed. Arms pull me out of the box and throw me on the pavement next to it. A crowd of people gather around me muttering things to each other; The Council.

"Her again," one of the voices say.

A lady walks up but it's too dark to recognize her.

"What do you know?" she asks with a sharp, mean tone to her voice.

All I manage to get out are some stuttering noises. She pulls something out of her pocket and holds it to the artificial sky. After catching a glimpse of something pointy, I move back. It appears to be a cylinder with a tall, pointy stick. The thicker part is filled with jet black goo that looks deadly.

I've never seen something so… sharp and dangerous. Is that even allowed? Isn't The Council breaking its own rule? What can she possible do with that? My bubbling confusion leaves me somewhat winded.

"What…" I croak.

She shushes me lightly and grabs my hand to press the point into my wrist. My arm goes numb, then eventually, everything else.

* * *

**_photos/98004108 N03/9195944224/in/photolist-f1BBQu-prockA-iRSsmw-8Tyxvv-fqNC7N-e6NDQp-dBvrtU-pi92K3-pYqStX-77jbfc-2PRuFK-pQPakE-3Eq6kE-8XzNp8-7qvJYJ-67D72Y-iRgaR6-7aLLtV-gf1nEe-5J7AJj-eGon91-o6xyEe-66rGri-bVSeme-jyWX1H-8FuCKa-7sxkNR-8TL8Fj-a9J5H6-3XdpMd-a9LTE5-xDUvq-ajtLzU-gmNG2K-oqSt6G-p6Koz8-4nuWfK-8C88Ws-nMP4aP-o8tRcW-bXT6x1-gmNemH-58Phr4-9rWDEX-bEgAuf-6tFPcd-bWErLN-5czXdb-58cPoW-4j6b8P/_**

_**I do not own original photo. Changes have been made. Link to original photo above.**_

_**Copyright © by beacuz**_  
_**All rights reserved. (For writing)**_

**Crossover between Veronica Roth's Divergent, Scott Westerfeld's Uglies, and Suzanne Collins' The Hunger Games. **

***I do not own these stories* **


	2. Chapter 2

I feel the burn on my scalp as I pull the comb through the tangled bush that descends from head. In the reflector that stands in front of me, I watch the delicate red waves fall. Combing is no use. I fold my hair to make a braid to the back but I am unsuccessful; my outcome consists of random parts sticking out. Moving on to my face is worse. Staring into my dark green eyes makes me shiver. Why do they have to be dark green? I have to get my surgery soon. For most, imperfections were minor, such as little pimples or crooked teeth. For me, it was basically everything. But how would they make my hair and eyes a normal colour like black or brown; the way it's supposed to be? I'm a mess, an abomination to the council, who would never approve of me. But the worst is my behavior. I've been thinking differently lately, seeing and hearing different things, and worst of all, developing some form of creativity, curiosity and questioning the rules. What would the council say?

The silver walls of the room have built in reflectors, and I can see myself on all four walls. _Great. _I guess that would be a good thing if I was pretty. Beams of light from the corners of the room light everything up. It's one of those automatic features that came from the previous room update. From now on, my room can sense when I wake up and when I go to sleep so it can control the lights. But the brightness seamed to make my face look even worse; my features bulge and shine in the weirdest way.

As an attempt to be as close as I can to normal, I turn off the main reflector, take my gray clothes from the closet and slip them on; the standard attire for Sector B. Lastly, I adjust my monitor - which sits around my neck - so that the little blue light is facing forward. Other than the annoying things about myself that I can't control, I take pride in making sure I am perfect; how the council wants everyone to be.

I switch on the reflector one last time to ensure perfection. Well, the closest I can be to perfect. The reflector blinks orange, which is pretty much as good as I get. Once the surgery takes place, the reflector will be flashing green forever. If one is truly ugly, or has any sort of disabilities, the reflector would be yellow. But of course, they would take the surgery.

I pat down on my frizzy hair one last time before turning off the reflector and then turning off the room. Everything running shuts down and all lights dim until the room is pitch black. I walk out into the large main room and close the door behind me.

The main room is filled with people walking around, young and old, in light gray. This is the main room for Sector B. We live in the East side of our area. Sector A in the North, D in the West and C in the South. Chairs are placed around the edge of the grand circular room. I take one and look around.

Everyone in my sector knows me, because I am basically the odd one out. But I don't know everyone. Sector B is very big; it consists of 2500 people. But this is only one B house out of about 25.

"782!" a voice calls from somewhere in the crowd. I look to my right and he emerges from the left then takes the seat beside me. He's 268. I'm 782.

Many younger ones misunderstood name as age and vice-versa. One's name is the order that they were imported in. If they were one of the earlier ones, there number would be smaller. If they were imported later or if they were newer, their number would be larger. I would explain to them that even though age and name were both numbers, they mean completely different things. One could be named 374 and be 3 years old. I would even use myself as an example and ask them if I looked like I was 782 years old. And when I told them I was only 15, it would blow their tiny little minds. I would also tell them that names were usually a higher number than age. But I had to constantly correct them for mixing everything up.

268 is my age but earlier. I love having someone to talk to. Unlike mine, his hair and eyes are how they're supposed to be. Black hair, brown eyes. How I will soon be.

"What's all the commotion about?" I ask. The main room is usually empty.

"Apparently, The Council has created a new reminder and it's about to play." he replies.

"Good! Remember the old one? That was so damn annoying. I even memorized it! _We want to protect and preserve the best form of humanity-_"

"Seven! What if the Council hears you?"

"I doubt they can hear me with all this noise." I say as I throw my hand in the air. But what I really want to say is: Screw the Council! Sure, they claim to _provide and care_, but it sure doesn't feel like it. I would _never_ reveal my inner thoughts in a regular place though. I _know _for a fact that (and I quote) _The Council is always watching_ – they tack that to the end of every reminder and it just creeps me out.

"So are you getting your surgery soon?" he asks, as antsy as I am about the topic.

"I think I'm going to. It's been scheduled for a long time now but they keep postponing me to treat the disabled people first."

He nods and then clasps his hands together.

"Was the surgery painful?" I ask, probably overstepping my boundaries.

"Well it depends on the person and the feature. When I was first imported, my hair and eyes were naturally like this,"

"Lucky,"

"And I had crooked teeth, dry skin, and a slight stuttering problem. Fixing the teeth hurt a little, and the dry skin part was fine. I was unconscious for the stuttering part. They must've tapped into my brain or something."

"Hm. Do you think it will hurt for me?" I ask, my eyes searching his face for any hint of an answer before he responds.

He, too, inspects my face for a while before answering.

"The eyes…" he says, staring right into mine as I stared right into his. It feels like he can see inside.

"Such an intricate shade of green, deep, glimmering… mysterious. I wouldn't want to ditch eyes like that." he says. "I don't know if it would hurt physically, but maybe knowing you have to loose such beautiful eyes might hurt emotionally."

"What are you talking about?" I say suddenly as I turn away from his gaze. I shake it off, but wonder if I really want to get rid of them, now that I know that Two likes them.

"Attention, Sector B 14!" says a voice. The crowd thins as people find seats around the room.

"The Council's new reminder is about to air. Please take your seats. Also, don't forget that Monthly Behavioral Conferences are next week."

Monthly behavioral conferences! That never ends well for me. If I don't change before then, I'm toast.

The reminder starts and I feel worse about the conferences, just knowing all the bad things about me they've been tallying up. Of course, there is my awkward appearance, but that's not all. I might've stolen a few things, done a couple things that would be considered "against the rules" but it was all for a reason. Well at least it seemed like it.

This world makes no sense. The council is stupid. Everyone is stupid. And I'm not going to just stand there and sink into the stupidity. I'm way smarter than all of these people. None of them question why society is like this and none of them even think about changing anything.

It must have something to do with that surgery. A surgery that I've always been waiting for, but now I'm not so sure.

One part of the room turns white and we all stare at it, awaiting The Council's reminder. A woman stands in the middle and begins walking forward. I realize they updated to a commercial that literally pops out; a projection. I remember learning about something like that in class, some years back. She begins to talk in a sharp voice, like she definitely knows what she's talking about. That almost makes me want to believe her.

_Food. Water. Shelter. Happiness. Life. We have been providing resources for you since the very beginning. We love and care for you. You are the best form of humanity and we want you to be perfect in every way possible._

I look over at everyone, only to see that they're listening attentively… like a bunch of mindless drones. I nudge Two to reiterate how messed up this stuff is, but as usual, he basically ignores me.

The woman talks, and I tune her out, but she seems to be speaking into my brain for the last couple sentences.

_Stay safe and stay perfect. _

I roll my eyes, involuntarily.

_And remember, The Council is always watching._

At that moment, the pixelated lady turns her head and glares at me directly. Before vanishing, she smirks at me.

My heart stops beating. Her computer generated stare was like plunging two needles into my eyes. Though it didn't hurt, it was just… extremely unsettling. Looking into the now empty space where she stood, I can still feel her gaze. And the weird thing was, I sort of recognized her from… who knows where.

"Two!" I whisper-shout. "Did you not see that woman look at me? She looked right through my soul!"

"What do you mean? She was so sweet." he replies.

"Are you f*cking crazy? She's…" I glance around for cameras, although I know they're everywhere.

"Seven." He said strictly. "Watch your mouth. Maybe you're the one who's crazy."

He stands up and walks towards a group of sane people to surround himself with. Now, calling someone crazy is strictly against the rules. I break rules all the time so it's okay for me to insult someone. But Two? Okay, maybe I needed to hear it.

I'm left in the room with nobody to talk to, so I observe. I watch the little ones speaking with their elders, others my age having conversations, some a bit older, all without problems to worry about. All with those perfect faces.

Soon, many part to go to their duties. The younger ones would go to school of course, but any older than 14, and we're expected to train. And it's pretty much all downhill from there. The council makes us into these perfect machines – preservations of the best mankind has to offer – and we train all day to become even better. We perfect selflessness, intelligence, bravery, truthfulness, peacefulness, appearance and everything in between. All of which I cannot seem to get the hang of. I blame the fact that I haven't gotten the surgery yet. At every monthly behavioral conference, I'm constantly picked at for not being flawless. This whole place is utter madness.

In the crowd of people exiting, I spot Two again and catch up with him. My light tap on his shoulder makes him turn around.

"I'm so sorry for calling you crazy." he says, with that annoying niceness that everyone seems to have, but me. It's so sincere, it almost makes me want to laugh.

"It's fine. You know I can't help the swearing when I get worked up." I hate to admit it.

It all started when we were younger, still in school, learning the rules. They'd told us that rule number whatever-the-heck was no swearing. They'd told us the words that were never to be spoken. Ha! Those little b*tches thought they could stop me.

"Where're you off to?" I ask in a calmer tone.

"My training begins with appearance analyzing today." He says, a matter-of-factly.

"My training begins with bravery." I comment, mocking his formal tone. "But I'm already tired as hell. Training's stupid. Especially bravery. Does it ever end?"

Two glances around for the cameras he knows are everywhere.

"Careful…" he whispers to me, with a serious expression, his stern brown eyes staring into mine. He then merges into the crowd and leaves. Is it worth being careful? I think I'd rather have them kill me off then "be careful".

By the time our conversation is over, the room has thinned out. The children have all gone to learn about the messed up lives their living, and the older ones have all gone to maintain it. I push open the doors of the sector house and inhale the not-so-fresh stuff called air. There's a low hum in the distance and I know it's the air purifying machine, making its rounds around the community. Aside from the humming, it's quiet and peaceful for once. I look into the distance, at nothing in particular and notice the white abyss that surrounds the community. I wonder what's beyond the white, and if there even is a beyond.

_Training begins in 5 minutes._ A voice recording on my monitor reminds me.

_Shit._

I skip down the steps and head towards my doom.


	3. Chapter 3

The elevator takes me to the top – the very top – of the tall bravery building where the training always starts. As soon as I pop out of the center of the roof top, I'm greeted by a gust of fake air that almost succeeds in knocking me off my feet. I gag involuntarily. The murky scent of breath was all that fills my system. Way up here, oxygen is thin and it takes a few seconds to adapt. Once I do, I can finally take in the view. From the top of the bravery building, I can see the whole community – how the shades of the houses go from black to white, blending with each other; how the narrow streets outline each building; how crisp everything appears. For a moment, it's almost beautiful. But I know better.

Another sudden and awkward breeze finds me and my vision is striped with strands of my vibrant curls. Against the bland community, the colour looks foreign.

"Hey!" a deep voice calls out from behind me. I turn to see our bravery instructor, arms crossed with the rest of the group standing behind him. He wears black, like all people in positions of authority. Except, his black is more fitted for athletics. His body and facial aspects appear chiseled. Now what type of surgery gives that? Probably just experience in bravery training. And of course, his hair is perfect; like everyone else in this damn place. The only thing off is his face which contorts in annoyance – his lips are pressed into a firm line, probably straighter than the roads in this place. Five is the name. What a f*cking idiot.

"Flames, over here, thinks she can show up whenever she wants." His voice is strict and low, somehow managing to carry, despite how high up we are. Oh, _flames_, like fire. Ha ha. Good one.

"Name calling," I begin, confidently stepping towards him. "Is against the rules."

"Showing up late is against the rules." he says back as he takes a step forward too. I can now see that he towers over me – he is a year older after all – but I try not to let it intimidate me in any way. That's bravery right there, isn't it?

"Your _existence_ is against the rules." I snap at him.

_Be careful._ A mind spoken voice tells me. I can't tell if it's the council speaking to me, or just my conscience with Two's words in my head. Either way, I choose to ignore it.

"Well," Five says with his arms still crossed, his midnight-black eyes fixed on me. And still, I'm not intimidated by this idiot. "We've got a feisty one here…"

My face heats up at the mention of _feisty._ Great. Now my skin matches my hair. I am not _feisty_, nor will I ever be _feisty._

"Looks like Feisty Flames is our first jumper today!" he announces loud to the small crowd behind him. A fire bubbles up inside of my chest and I want to kill him. I'm already a well-known outsider for my "crazy hair" and "wild behavior". Now I'm _Feisty Flames, The Outsider_? Nu-uh. Is he trying to provoke me? To see if and how I'll lash out?

In the midst of people cheering, I violently push past Five and through the crowd until I'm at the edge of the building. My determination must frighten them because they quiet down as I shove through them. I can't help but to let snide comments like Five's get to me. My rage is the driving force of everything else; in this case, my determination to jump off of this building with no fear.

I position my shoes at the extremities of the roof top and peer down. Everything is minuscule; the large buildings that would tower me, now completely dwarf me in size. It's almost as if it's not real.

I don't know what I'm jumping into; it changes every time. 'It's all about not knowing, expecting the unexpected and being brave.' As Five would say. I honestly just love the jump because it gives me the illusion of real wind. Like a bird, plunging through the air; free. I just want to feel free.

In that instant, I release any inhibitions, and jump.

My hair is instantly whipped back in my feet first plunge. When I don't tighten my muscles, my arms almost flap like a bird's wings would. It's more fun that way. As the buildings surrounding me rapidly fly by, a tingly feeling in my abdomen arises. How could free falling be thought of as scary? It's so relaxing yet thrilling at the same time.

The brightness around me suddenly fades to black as I fall into a net, back first. My instant pressure weighs it down, then I'm bounced back to floor level. In the darkness, only silhouettes register in my vision. With my heart still pounding, I step down from the net and glance around at nothing but black.

"Scared yet?" the familiar deep voice seems to echo through the room. Must be Five again. That_ idiot_. I cross my arms again, prepared to bicker if needed.

"The unknown surprise at the end of the jump was a net? I'm shitting my pants out of fear." I retort. I can't see Five, but I know he's trailing around this space, somewhere. I listen for his voice.

"You better watch it, Feisty Flames. I'm serious." he says quietly, pacing where I suppose is in circles around me. Why can't he let the stupid nick name go? In no way do I resemble fire. Okay, maybe the hair, but that's it!

"Every time you say something, you break a billion rules. Why can't you just stay in line?" It was the most I'd ever heard Five say at once. His deep and slightly raspy voice was even foreign in my mind. This must really concern him.

I hear the net bounce a few times – more people are jumping. I carry on and answer his pointless questions as they begin conversations amongst each other. Probably all scared shitless. Ha ha.

"This place just isn't worth it." I examine my hair in the dark, even though I don't see anything. I know running my fingers through it is impossible, so I settle for a satisfactory hair flip instead.

More people jump.

"Well, make it worth it. You don't want to be executed. Now to think of it, why haven't they executed you already? You're obviously asking for it." He says, now suddenly about a meter behind me.

Why haven't I been executed? The council definitely hates my guts, but I haven't crossed enough lines to be executed. If I keep pushing buttons, I might be. But then again, I refuse to live another day of this thing called life.

"And why the hell do you wanna know?" I press, avoiding sharing personal information with this idiot. For all I know, he could be getting info out of me, only to tell the council what I've been thinking. Just like the council, he is a somewhat position of authority, after all.

"Just curious," his voice somehow manages to travel to the back of my neck. Wow, he's standing extremely close.

I scoff and glare at the darkness in front of me, intended for Five.

"What's that thing they say about curiosity and cats?" I say saucily, with as much hatred as I can muster at the moment. I walk off to lose him.

Just then, the lights turn on to reveal an extremely large, blinding white room that appears to have no walls and no ceiling. It's a never ending room. The only things inside are the other people doing the bravery training today – I'm thinking about 15 of them.

I've only been to bravery training once before this and we didn't do much. It was basically an orientation walk. This is the first time I'm seeing this space. What are we even going to do? See who can run the furthest into nowhere without turning back? I swear, this is for f*cking wussies. I might just have to turn on my heels and walk out. I don't need bravery training. I don't need any training.

The group pulls a part to reveal Five in the center of the circle they've created. I join in. He begins speaking, his voice condescendingly echoing through the larger than humongous space. His voice pumps through my veins rather than my actual blood.

"Perfection. Not only must it be in your appearance," Great. Now he sounds just like the council. "Perfection must be on the inside as well. In your personality, and in your muscular strength and endurance." Oh no. Nonononono. I do not like where this is heading. "That is why today's session in bravery is combat." _Shit! _"I'll have two people fighting at a time. Hopefully, you all reviewed the combat pointers I mentioned last class." _Even more shit! What pointers?_

I mimic the death glare that the hologram lady had given me, and use it on Five, The Idiot. I shoot deathly acid out of my eyes until I feel like they're going to pop out of my skull.

This community is a nightmare. My worst nightmare! It looks so beautiful and efficient from above with its buildings so crisp that they appear to be cut out. With its people so perfect that they appear to have been completely computer generated. But hidden behind all of the metal walls and layers of surgery is utter madness!

I can't f*cking do this anymore. Do I even have a choice?


	4. Chapter 4

It stands right behind me. My only escape from combat training.

The door.

My body twitches at the desperate urge to flee out the door; to avoid being called on and having some random person knock me out. I yearn to leave. It's my only option. I can't fight. My 'bitchy' personality can only get me so far. My body frame is a little smaller than average, therefore petite. And petites just don't do fighting. _Especially not me._

5 rambles on about the rules, but all I can hear is my pulse thumping in my head. I inch away from the situation as I slowly lean towards the door. _Almost there._

The sudden deafening silence in the room yanks me out of my trance. I focus my vision, only to see 5 in the center of the room, staring at me intensely. The sudden urge to say something takes over, making me sound stupid in the process.

"Huh?" I utter.

"I said, 'You're up!'" he says, motioning me to the center of the blank room.

I move there, ever so swiftly, yet not feeling as sure of myself as I once did. What happened to fiery and confident 782?

My legs are jello beneath me as I awkwardly position myself for combat.

"46!" 5 calls. A girl about a foot taller than me emerges from the stunned faces of the crowd, and she's oozing with confidence. Her bulky arms and legs must be twice the size of my scrawny ones. The finely cut jet black hair she wears is cradled around her ears, bringing out her perfect symmetry. The small bounce in her stride and the smug smile on her face as she walks over tells me she _knows_ she's going to win. And with so much more experience – due to her two-digit number – who can blame her? She thinks she's getting to me. She thinks she's going to make me cower in her presence. But all I want to do is smack the fucking smirk of her face.

"Looks like I lucked out." she says quietly to herself, looking me dead in the eye.

"What, just 'cause I'm small means I can't fucking fight?" my irritation rises, along with the volume of my voice. Even though I can't fight, I'm infuriated by how she assumes that I can't, just because I'm small. My miniscule hands form fists, clenching the rage I possess. I once thought people in this place were supposed to be nice. It's weird how these perfect people are only nice to people who are also perfect like themselves. Then comes me – the weird red-headed freak – that ruins the whole equation. So, I guess when it comes to being friendly to people who aren't them, they just can't. I bet it's all a part of the surgery.

_The surgery is good. The surgery makes you a better person. The surgery makes you perfect._

Though, I really should get the surgery soon…

The disgusting snaps of 46 cracking her knuckles yanks me out of my thoughts. I can't believe we're just going to fight, just like that. What if I get injured? Why does no one seem to care? _What is this?_

5's stern voice sounds in the never ending room to the downbeat of my heart.

"Fight!"

Surprisingly, the room goes silent. I feel the crowd's eyes on me as I repeatedly force dry gulps.

I steal a quick glance at 5, who seems to be completely fine with all of this. When I look back at 46, she's in a fighting stance – bouncing on her toes, knees bent, fists up in the air. I try to do the same, but quickly lose balance as she suddenly steps toward me. The smirk on her face widens and my urge to smack it off grows. I want to hit her – claw at her until her perfect face is scraps of bloody flesh – but I can't seem to move a muscle.

"She's so… fragile." says 46, eyeing me carefully as if I'm not even human. "And _so_ _ugly_."

Before I can fight back, an explosive pain erupts in my head with a loud thump. A deep throbbing sensation takes over as I begin to float and drift away from reality. Black blobs pick at my vision as I'm rendered hollow, yet filled with pulsing ache. My ears ring repeatedly at the impact, then I realize that I've just been punched by 46. And her fat knuckles hurt like _hell_. One punch feels like a billion. Oh, right, that's because she punches me a billion times after that.

I can't really tell from where, but I know she's kicking, jabbing me in the chest. I let out shaky coughs; they taste sour. All I can think is that all of this twisted pain is somehow for _the good of us all_, as the council would say.

Somehow with all of these attacks, I know that 46 is somewhere in front of me – her faint chuckles seem to swarm in my mind. She must think she won. I _won't_ let her win. For punching me like that, I won't let her make it out alive. Is this what being perfect is all about?

One blurry look at this bitch and I'm charged with fury. This time, my muscles don't tense up nor do they hold me back. Even though I can barely find my balance yet, I lunge at her.

I force my loaded fists into her face, shattering all perfection. As I make contact with her, all of the tension that I've been building up seems to disappear. With my body still sore, I continue attacking her. She must not be expecting this from me. Neither am I.

She puts up a fight though, when her fists briefly make contact with jaw a few times while I try to make a comeback. But I want this more than she does. I need to win more than she does. With full force, I kick her in the ribs again and again until she finally falls to the ground.

There's an awkward silence as I loudly catch my breath and confusingly regain balance.

Have I won? Am I know more perfect than I was before? Have I actually done something right?

I inspect the limp body I knocked out. 46 is sprawled on the floor with her arms and legs laying at unnatural angles, dark fluid seeping through her uniform. I take a confused step back.

Did I actually do that? Oh, shit. _Oh, shit!_

It felt right to attack her for the way she smirked and laughed at me. But as my stomach churns a little, I'm not so sure. This is what the council wants, so this is what I'm supposed to do. All to be closer to perfection.

The pain in my head lingers as my sore knuckles shake. Someone grabs my hand and holds it up high. The black clothes in my peripheral vision tells me it's 5.

"Behold…" his deep voice cuts through the silence like a machete. "782, Girl on Fire!"

The people surrounding us cheer for what I assume is me – _Girl on Fire_. It's much better than _Feisty Flames_, which was just horrible. 5 drops my hand and moves to the side to plan the next fight. I, still shocked, stand there like an idiot.

Medical agents dressed in black burst through the doors with a stretcher to take 46 away. Very soon, she'll be back to her perfect self. I know they've got all the medicine in the world to fix her. When the medical agents look over at me, they freeze. I know what they must be thinking. One, _what's up with the hair and eyes?_ Two, _why didn't you get your surgery yet? You're ugly!_ And three, _how could a tiny person like you cause so much damage?_

That's exactly what I'd like to know.

As an answer to all of their mental questions, I stare them in the eye. The intensity of my green glare must scare them, because they soon resume to taking 46 away. I guess I'm done with bravery training for today.

I rejoin the crowd, leaving an empty space in the middle of the room. And just like that, I'm swallowed in a sea of gray again, except this time, they don't all look at me like I'm the worst thing they've ever seen. This time, it's a mix of awe… and fear. But mostly awe. And that feels _fucking awesome._

"782?"

A tap on my shoulder sends me into panic mode. After just fighting 46, any contact seems to make me shiver. I turn to see two other trainees in gray; one male, one female, both bodies of perfection, of course.

"_What?_" I question, making them flinch as they try to keep their perfect smiles.

"M-my apologies. Uh-I'm 888." The girl stutters. Her dark brown hair pulled back into a perfectly symmetrical ponytail to match her perfect name. How does one end up with a name like _that_? All three of the same digits.

I glance at the guy beside her, whose hair is a deep chestnut shade, so dark it's almost black. I'm about to ask them what they want – assuming they're only talking to me to make fun of me – but I'm stunned by the shiny charcoal eyes the guy stares at me with. I thought I was the only one with different coloured eyes. On him, they look majestic, almost silver. Has he not had his surgery yet either? I snap myself out of it and reply to a flustered 888.

"Nice name." I say as I look at the rest of her. The figure is just how I dream of appearing. Exactly medium sized; not too tall, not too short, not too wide, not too thin. _Now I immediately hate her. _

"Just wanted to say that you did a good job in there. You didn't even let her size intimidate you." She said, with a tad more confidence.

"Yeah, whatever." I mutter as sneak a glance at mystery dude. He's staring off into the distance, deep in thought, I suppose. He's sort of lean; like the type of person who's really shy. Except, his eyes. His eyes tell me that he's not shy at all. Just choosing not to speak, I guess.

Almost everyone in the place is an idiot. So far, he hasn't pissed me off _yet_. I bet as soon as he speaks, the true idiot inside of him will surface. Except he isn't speaking. Why isn't he speaking?

5 calls out two random numbers I don't care to really notice. The room erupts in cheers and I clap a little, lacking energy. Oh, I wish it's mystery boy that 5 called. I wonder if he can fight. I wonder if he can even speak at all. To my dismay, two random people walk into the centre of the room, both cowering in each other's presence. _What wusses. _

"Um," 888 starts again. _Ugh. _Involuntarily, I roll my eyes. I honestly can't help it. "I think you'd be perfect for the Shift."

I choke on my saliva and my eyes widen. "What? The Shift? Are you kidding me?" I ask, my voice oddly loud in the room.

The _Shift_? In which people compete for the crown that…_ugh. Nu-uh. No. Never._

"It's not like she can apply anyways. It's random." A cold voice spits from beside 888. It's him. I cock an eyebrow and stare through his burning eyes, a little afraid of what I might find.

"It speaks." I announce, not breaking eye contact.

"Oh, _shut up_." he snaps at me, his charcoal eyes spitting fire. _What?_ How dare he say that to me! How does this _dipshit _have the guts to say that to _me_?

I open my mouth to fight back with the nastiest comment I can, but a large thump shakes the ground beneath us. I turn to see that someone had finally been knocked out. Some guy is lying on the floor, shaking and crouched into a ball. When I turn back, mystery dude is nowhere in sight. 888 is still there though, shocked at the battle events. As another wild cheer fills the room, there are two things on my mind: The Shift, and how badly I'm going to kick mystery dude's ass.

If only I knew his fucking name…


	5. Chapter 5

After bravery training, the day was pretty much over. I returned to my sector house still in pain from the battle. Surprisingly, I wasn't physically wounded, so the medical agents didn't have to tend to me or anything. Like those bastards would help me anyways.

In my room, I regard my reflection for the billionth time. The frizzy locks sit at my shoulders, mocking me. The eyes I use to criticize myself do the same. It's _disgusting_. And I can't avoid it. Unless I get that surgery. Why haven't they called me yet?

On top of all that, there's the looks I get. The way their eyes linger on me to reiterate the fact that I'm far from perfect. Like, I know I'm ugly. No need to fucking rub it in.

I sway back and forth in my plain gray uniform. As I do, each movement seems to be cut short by small abrupt pains in my sides; definitely from the fight. At least my uniform still appears crisp and new; the pants still tight, the shirt still its original shade of gray. The colour sort of reminds me of that mystery guy. The guy I'm going to murder on sight if I have to.

I start striding out of my room, but am stopped short by 268, who is suddenly standing at my door. Noticing my poor state, he skips the small talk and gets straight to the point.

"I heard bravery training was intense. What happened? Who did you fight? Are you okay?" he asks, much too compassionately.

"I'm fine. I… I actually won. Against 46."

"Really?" _Yeah, shut up, I'm surprised too._

I watch the main room fill up behind him with people coming back from learning and training, settling down for daily nutrition. They're like mindless drones, milling around, going through the motions, without a hint of how messed up this life is.

"How was _appearance analyzing_?" I over pronounce the words, to reiterate how stupid it is.

"They basically showed us what they change in the surgeries – how to appear more perfect. You know, the usual: aligning facial symmetry, slimming the nose, darkening the hair, darkening the eyes, trimming the- "

"Yeah, I get it. Basically everything that I don't have. I'm a walking definition of…" I throw my hands up in the air and huff. "…_imperfect_." Okay, call me overdramatic, but it's true. Imperfect. The word basically goes against everything this society believes in.

"7, don't say that. You are not _imperfect_." states 2 as he looks at me with his caring (and sort of annoying) chocolate coloured eyes. "You can just use a little tweaking. I mean, you took down 46! That's a step in the right direction."

Sure doesn't feel like it.

"I bet you could even make The Shift."

"_Dammit,_ why do people keep saying that?" I was downright shell-shocked when 888 (that idiot) mentioned The Shift. (Or as I personally call it; The _Shit._) Everybody knows what happens to people who enter The Shift. I was not about to take those risks. "7, The Shift is fucking pointless! Please, never bring that up again."

2 steps back, frightened by my sudden outrage. But I step forward, making sure to calm down before continuing.

"If anyone should be entering The Shift, it should be you. You're perfect at everything." I say honestly as I playfully poke his chest.

He scoffs. "No, I'm not. I wouldn't be able to handle it. But you should have no problem. And I know you. You're smarter than you think."

"Well, you're dumber than you think!" I spit at him. There's the uncontrollable urge to yell at people again. "Let's just go."

Now in the main room, we search for the hallway that leads out to the nutrition room. The place is packed with gray suited people milling about; it's suffocating. But definitely better than the outside air. Everything is better than that stuff.

Once I'm finally walking through the clearer hallway, I notice that both walls are entirely covered in black screen. That could only mean one thing… motion censored reminders. That means that every time I walk down this damn hallway, the beautiful voices of the council will remind me to stay perfect. I'm so not in the mood, but of course, the walls light up and begin talking anyway.

"Oh, _shit_! Two, plug your ears!" I moan. But like the idiot he is, he doesn't plug his ears. I hold my head and continue rushing down the hallway, but the words still seep through to my brain.

_Food. Water. Shelter. Happiness. Life. We have been providing resources for you since the very beginning. _

Okay, almost there….

_ …__You are the best form of humanity… appearance… perfection…_

I see the door now…

_Stay safe and stay perfect._

I desperately reach for the knob, completely forgetting to hold the door for 268, who lingers behind me.

_And remember, the council is always watching._

Once through the door, I don't receive those awkward gazes; the room is too busy for anyone to notice my arrival. The back wall of the mechanical room is lined with nutritional machinery, each producing different quantities of nutrition. It's nothing exciting, really.

I shove through the crowd, being sure to not linger too long in one spot or else I'll get the glares. I press the machine's button and it emits a small see through bottle of nutrition. It's this beige mush that we drink at the end of each day to keep satisfied. No taste, though it tastes better than the air outside. I gulp it down and discard the waste; what a strange consistency. It moves down my throat in coarse lumps, leaving me instantly full. I hope that in my lifetime, I'll get to taste something better than this, because this is just about as good as it gets.

A tap on my shoulder startles me, again. People really need to stop tapping me on the shoulder. I turn dramatically, being sure to whip this person in the face with my hair. That gives me a good laugh. That's as fun as it gets in this place.

"782, hi! I'm 1057." a girl about my height says. She must be younger than me, to have the guts to talk to me without a trace of fear in her eyes. Long black hair cascades over her shoulders and ends around her armpits. Not once does she cower or uncomfortably break eye contact.

"_What? _You want me to join The Shit too?" I say, suddenly realizing that I'd said 'The Shit' and not 'The Shift'. I knew that would slip out some time. And in front of a younger one… _oops. _

Not once does her confidence falter. "Just wanted to say good job." With that, she leaves and joins the crowd of people. _Huh._

I know The Shift is in a month or so, and I know what it does to people. I will not enter, no matter what. But with all these people telling me good job, what if I'm recommended? Do I have the right to decline? I need to find a way to make sure that my name doesn't end up in the Shift lottery. I'd rather live in this dump for the rest of my life; surviving monthly behavioral conferences, enduring idiots, putting up with the council and more, than to have my name selected. I'll sabotage the lottery if that's what it takes.

I tap the person to my left on the shoulder (okay, maybe I'm a hypocrite). This one looks at me with hatred in their eyes. Finally, a normal reaction.

"When's the Shift lottery?" I ask firmly with more hatred than this guy inspects me with. At first he doesn't reply, appalled by my appearance. But I stare him down, and eventually, he tells me.

"_Tomorrow._" He turns back around. Tomorrow? I guess I should've been paying more attention to the council's announcements. I have to sabotage the lottery _now. _But how?

**Main plot is on its way...**


	6. Chapter 6

Note to self: Next time when attempting to sabotage a lottery, go fucking pee first.

Okay, I'm not very proud of it. I always remember to go when I have to go. Except this time, I left the building, and then the urge to piss suddenly came. Even worse than leaving without checking myself, I left without any equipment nor any idea of what I was going to do. I guess it's just my pee, my hair, and I.

I'm now positioned behind our sector house, desperately trying to blend into the shade of the artificial light. My back is pressed against the cool metal of the wall as I take awkward steps toward the center of the community; the council headquarters. The sour scent of metal behind me somehow helps to balance out the breathy air, but soon, I'll have to leave this wall. The wall will have to reach an end, and I'll have to scurry across to the next wall so nobody catch me outside this late at night. How long can I keep doing that for?

Why is being sneaky so damn hard?

Every step, slide and breath has to be so muted, or else they could find me. Once they find me, they could… kill me. They wouldn't do that, would they?

I reach the end of the wall and my I'm completely exposed. In the eerie darkness with the subtle lights, I can easily be seen by any patrolling council members. My pulse skips a couple beats.

This is way too much. I can't handle this. Maybe I should go back to my sector house. Monthly behavioral conferences are coming up and I don't want footage of me sneaking around. Plus, I _really_ have to pee.

Is this the council's voice in my head? Or my own conscience. It's getting difficult to tell these days.

My mind screams at me to stop, turn around, and go home, but for some freaking reason, my body won't let me. My body screams at me to keep going, and eventually it forces me to.

Sorry, bladder.

I position myself right at the corner of the building and think of a way to cross without being noticed by patrollers nor cameras. I glance at the camera above the building and get the craziest idea.

I can't go straight, I can't go under, I can't go around… but maybe I can go on top?

I reach for the neck of the light that sticks out of the building, but instantly realize that I'm way too short. _Curse my tiny figure! _I jump again, which makes something in my abdomen cramp up. 46 must've gotten me there as well.

My eyes begin to glare at the light like I glared at 5 when he forced us to fight each other. That idiot.

Back then, I turned my rage into power. Maybe I can do that now. For the hundredth time, I crouched low and sprung up to grasp the neck of the light. My slender fingers clutch the light as I pull myself up the slippery surface of the building's wall. The muscles in my arms tense, but I throw myself onto the roof of the sector house. Moving myself is easy if I try really hard; I'm small and agile, I guess.

This rooftop isn't as high as the one on top of the bravery building. The next rooftop should be one of the air-purifying vehicle storages due to its smaller size. It shouldn't be that hard to jump across. If I jump and make it, the camera won't see me, nor the patrollers. But if I jump and don't reach the other side… I'll splat on the steel ground for sure. _Shit. _But there's no turning back.

I take a couple backward strides, with my eyes not on the floor, but on the destination. As quietly as possible, I dash forward and leap, my hands out in front to grab anything I can. My legs cycle in mid-air; an attempt to keep moving forward. Once my fingertips clutching the edge of the next rooftop with a bang, I cringe then sigh in relief. One down, plenty more to go.

I have to hurry up though, because I remember that my fucking monitor is on.

* * *

After a whole lot of running and leaping, I can finally see the tall council headquarters in front of me. Its security is unstoppable. I would never make it in. How did I think I would do this in the first place? Having no plan is the worst plan I could ever have.

Despite having absolutely no idea what I'm doing, I jump down from the building I'm crouching on and sprint to the outer wall of the headquarters. They're monitoring me. Everything I do is way too slow and too obvious. _Shit, this is impossible._

I use the little time I have left before they find me to breathe. My bladder tingles though, making it impossible to stand still.

I need to get inside of this place and find the lottery ball. And the bathroom. Both of which I might never find. Damn, I hate how this place has no windows. I can't get in through the windows. The only doors are guarded by security guards. Okay, maybe it's time to go home.

"What are you doing here?"

_Shit, they've found me._

In panic mode, I spin around to face the source of the voice. Huh, it's 5. He wears his black authority clothes while his rough yet shaped hair basically matches them, as well as his eyes. He blends into the night; I can barely see him.

"5," I say, not sure whether to be at ease, or even more in panic. "You…" I take an unsteady breath. "…you wouldn't turn me in, would you?" I try to look into his eyes, but only see the cold black glow they reflect.

He crosses his arms and replies in a tone deeper than before. The dark voice cuts through the eerie silence of the community. "Depends." I cross my arms as well, to not appear like a coward with them at my sides. I cross my legs too, to calm my urge to _go._

"Can you please just take me to the lottery room?" I plead with all the confidence I can muster.

"The lottery room? What are you trying to pull?" his mildly husky voice asks, annoyingly filled with curiosity.

"_Look, idiot. _I don't have much time, s-"

"What's in it for me?" he asks, throwing me completely off guard. What's in it for him? I have no idea. "Whatever, you owe me, let's go." he adds before grabbing my wrist and quickly leading me to the back of the building. I stumble along behind him as I try to keep up with his inhuman walking pace.

Honestly, this is about the most adventurous stunt I've ever pulled. I can feel my adrenaline rising with each daring step I follow 5 with. I thrive for that feeling. I've thrived for it all my life.

Finally at the back door, 5 places his palm on the scanner and removes it as the door clicks open. _Cool._

"I don't want to keep dragging you. Keep up!" 5 whisper-shouts as he lets go of my hand and continues to move in the background of the eerily empty room. I try to be quiet and unnoticeable, but doesn't my appearance just scream, "Notice me!"? The hair doesn't help; anyone can spot me from miles away.

5 enters an elevator and I do too. I pray there's nobody in there, but to my dismay, there's someone standing in the corner. _Uh-oh. We're done._ I look to 5 for help but he doesn't return the look. The elevator doors close agonizingly slow.

I stand in the other corner of the elevator so that 5 is in between me and that random guy. Hopefully he won't recognize me and turn me in. I sneak a peek at him, risking my life in the process. I am greeted with a pair of stone-gray irises that seem to meet mine at the exact same time. He paralyzes me.

_Why the frick is he here?_

I don't have time to process anything properly when the elevator door opens up and I'm forced to break I contact and follow 5 on the journey to the lottery room.

"Almost there…" mumbles 5 as he navigates the halls, dodging corners of walls with sharp turns. At last, we stop at a large black door, the height of two 5's. He scans his palm to open this one too. He opens it slowly to reveal a room so white, I can't see where side walls ends. I squint and shield my eyes for an instant, before calming down to observe the place. I notice the large metal counter that lines the back wall. Large metal chairs are tucked into it and a huge shiny glass sphere filled with folded slivers of paper sits in the middle. I have to look up to see where it ends. This is the lottery room.

"The bad ones are written more than the others." 5 states.

"Huh?"

"The bad people? The trouble makers? They're put into the lottery more than the normal people. It's to reduce the bad influence here. Also, the people who would naturally be good for the shift." he explains. I listen attentively while slowly circling the lottery ball. "I guess you fit both categories."

I must be in this thing a lot. _Shit._

"And you're here to help me take my name out of this for good." I say, lightly stroking the smooth glass of the lottery ball.

"No, no, no. My job was to take you here." I stop in my tracks.

"What? Then how do I do this?"

"Figure it out!" he turns as if he's about to leave but I stop him.

"Wait! Help me do this. I don't have much time." I ask impatiently, without trying to sound like I'm pleading. 5 looks at me with his darkened eyes that show no emotion what so ever. Who knows if he'll help me or not. He exhales through his nose.

"I don't know how." he says. I can't believe it. Does that mean I'm stuck with the Shift?

"You don't kno-…" I trail off, frustrated. "There has to be a way! You _idiot!_" At that moment, I yell uncontrollably louder than planned. All my anger suddenly turns into panic. I panic deeper than ever before. I panic because I can't take back what I said and how loud I said it. If they heard me, they'd be pacing down the halls right now. I know that I'm in serious shit because the determined footsteps of council members is exactly what I hear, perfectly in sync with the frantic beating of my heart.

I glance desperately at 5, who gives me a look that says, _this is all your fault. You caused us to get caught. Have fun in the Shift, Girl on Fire._

And to that, I give him a look, with even more hatred than before, that says, _you fucking idiot._

* * *

**_OOOooohh parkouring girl on fire! Stay tuned for more awesomeness! Please review and let me know what you think :)_**

**_\- beacuz_**


	7. Chapter 7

She bursts through the door with more gusto than I could've ever imagined from her. It's her, it has to be. Her name is One. The woman with all the power. The woman who gave me the death glare in the hologram. Who knows what she can do in real life. In a brief second, I fear for my life. But then I realize how easily I can take her sorry ass down. Her fitted outfit doesn't even allow her to move. She's… fragile, as 46 once called me. One's tall and frail. A simple blow of the air outside can easily take her down. I think I chuckle a little.

One strides toward me in small stiletto steps, then stops a little too close for my liking. How come everyone in this place towers over me?

"You _again._" she spits out, as if saying it puts a bitter taste in her tight mouth. Everything about her is tight; her personality, her shoes, her outfit, the bun in her hair, her face… it's almost creepy. What if it all just-

"_What are you doing in here?_" she spits out again. It's then that I realize she is the voice in my mind that freaks me out. I also realize irrelevant things, like the fact that her eyes appear as though they might bulge out of her face. I might be focusing on the wrong things here.

"I-I… was…"

"Trying to sabotage the lottery?" she asks condescendingly, as if my efforts were completely pointless, which they were. "Maybe we'll just insert your name a few more times."

"What?" _Stupidfuckingidiotstupid_ "Y-You can't _fucking_ do that!" My saliva caught in my throat as I expressed my confusion and anger. I'm already in that goddamn lottery enough. To put me in again and again and again… could jeopardize everything for me. It's practically just sending me off into the Shift without even having a lottery. As tough as I am, the thought terrifies me.

"Oh," she raises her hairline thin eyebrows at me, as I usually do at everyone. "But I can."

An irresistible urge to lunge for her neck rises quickly, but as I raise my arms, her body guards are already yanking me back. Their hands clutch my arms like wrenches. Before One stiletto-strides to the lottery ball she walks to Five and whispers to him first. Five then searches the counters. My pulse beats in my ears now.

"This will be… I think the second time we'll have to do this to you." One states casually as she walks over to the lottery ball to destroy my life.

In a state of panic, yet not trying to show it, I answer quietly.

"Do what to m- "

I'm suddenly pricked with something dangerously sharp in my wrist. I think Five's doing this to me. I expect the sting to go away, but it lingers as my vision fades away. What is he doing to me? What is the council? What is this cruel world we call life?

* * *

The first thing I see is the metallic gray of my bedroom ceiling. I slowly move my hands to my neck and feel the monitor on my neck, then my frizzy hair. Everything is where it should be. Everything is calm and peaceful. I glance at the time reader on the wall, but it's too early for me to read anything.

Something buzzes. I search all around but I can't detect where the buzz is coming from.

"It's 268, you should probably wake up very soon. You're five minutes late." The voice from the door tells me.

_Shit. Shit. Shit!_

Five minutes late. Everyone would already be meeting by now. I jump up and onto the floor, which pounds at my contact. _Oops. _Note: be less clumsy.

"Is everything okay in there?"

"Yes." I answer as I race towards the dresser to change. I take off the old stuff and slip on the new stuff. I even rush to squeeze my stubborn locks into regulation braid, which completely fails, but manages. A quick face wipe and I'm lunging out the door, running into 268, who stands too close.

"Move!" I exclaim, already out of breath. But 2 regards me a little longer. His deep brown eyes search my face for something, I don't know what. He breathes into my face as I breathe into his.

"What is it?"

"You… you look different. Did you sleep? Where were you last night?" he questions. I scoff and look away.

"Here, with everyone else." I step aside so we're a safe distance away. "Where were you?"

He pulls a face that basically answers my question. Where else could the completely normal and boring 268 be? But soon, his face returns to his usual serious expression; his brown eyes are shallow pits in his perfect face. 2 breathes out slowly, then lowers his gaze to the metallic floor.

"It's today. The Shift is today." he whispers. My breath catches in my throat when I realize that's what I was trying to remember. _The Shift is today._ Some of our lives will change forever. What if it's 2 that goes? Or me? I can't lose him.

"We're going to be late." I mention quietly. There's too much tension to think straight; The Shift is today.

"We survived the lottery since forever. They haven't picked us yet. Chances are we won't get picked." he reassures me, even quieter than I had spoken to him.

"As tough as I may seem, this thing scares the shit out of me." I say, fear lacing my voice.

"We can do this. Stay strong." He begins to walk toward the door and I follow, my mind a swarming whirlpool of chaotic thoughts. _What if I'm chosen? What if 268's chosen? What if we're both chosen?_ Good thing everyone is only in there once and there is an equal chance.

"And if the lottery chooses you…" 2 says as he stops abruptly, still staring straight ahead at the door. "… never forget me."

We step out into the artificial sunlight with hopes crushed and nerves high. The lottery awaits.

* * *

**Thanks for reading, lovely people! Or lovely person, depending on how many people are reading this. It sucks that crossovers on don't get that many reads or comments. But that's ok. Give crossovers some love :) btw check me out on Wattpad. Over there, I'm beacuz. C ya!**

**~bea_cuz**


	8. Chapter 8

The artificial sunlight seems brighter today. It forces me to squint until I can see my eyelashes. Maybe they cranked it up for this extra special day. I won't get chosen though, I never do.

The streets are filled with people wearing all shades, not just the gray of our sector. Everyone heads toward the centre of the community, where the Shift selection will be held. I keep the straightest face I can even though there's a lump in my throat. My steps feel more weighted, as if each is significant. _Breathe, 7, breathe._

"Two, this doesn't feel right. I feel off. As if I'm forgetting something." I complain to Two who walks in front of me.

"You feel like this every time. Don't worry, it'll be over before you know it. I'll be right next to you through the whole thing." He turns to give me a reassuring smile, with deep dimples that ease all my worries. The lump in my throat softens.

I feel a tap on my shoulder (what is it with people tapping me on the shoulder?) again and turn exhaustedly to purposefully whip this idiot with my hair.

"Whadya want?" I exclaim, already tired of the conversation. I hate talking to people I don't have to. Especially when they tap me on the shoulder. Like, if you have something to say, come out in front of my face and say it. Jeez.

"Are you nervous?" It's 888 with her perfect name and perfect dark brown hair. "I'm so nervous."

_Yes._

"I don't get nervous." I lied. You're bound to get nervous when your life is on the line. What type of stupid question is that? I sigh dramatically and give my perkiest impression of her. "Good luck, though!" I turn back around and keep moving with the crowd. She is the most annoying person I've ever met. She talks to me as if I'm one of them, one of the perfected. But I'm not. So why fake it. I'd like it better if she spit in my face.

I really do not get why people say good luck for things like this. Is it good luck on not getting chosen? Or good luck on getting in?

In the distance I can finally see the grand stage they've set up in front of the council headquarters. People have begun to stop walking. We're here.

"Greetings, citizens. Welcome to the 51st annual Shift. The council would like to begin with a short reminder, followed by a video on the Shift."

I gag. Another reminder? This time, I can't even plug my ears.

_Food. Water. Shelter. Happiness. Life…_

I attempt to tune it all out, but it's so loud, it fills my mind. Any time I try to think of something else, the annoying voice comes back. It's like mind control.

_… __representation of humanity… perfection_

Kill. Me. Now.

_… __stay safe and stay perfect. And remember, the council is always watching…_

After the reminder, a video about the Shift plays. They show it every year. It's another one of those secret things that terrify me.

"The Shift is a great way for you to give back to your community. Every year, we select two candidates from each sector for this amazing opportunity to experience a different environment and develop their skills as human beings. Candidates are briefly trained, then invited to engage in competition. If one is victorious, one will win the crown and become a member of the council, become a trainer or take another position of authority."

Cheesy videos of very happy people in the council office appear. They even show last year's group of candidates on the screen, in a large room. They make it sound so pleasant, like they're inviting us to do this. But the thing is, how come the previous candidates always disappear? I believe I know what happens to them. They die, don't they?

"There can only be one winner."

Where do the rest of them go? Sometimes, nobody comes back and I'm guessing there was no winner. I don't want to disappear and I don't want to know what goes on behind the stage. A bead of sweat escapes from my forehead and I quickly swipe it away. _Breathe, 7, breathe. No anger tantrums today, please. _

I shake my head violently, but try not to make a scene. That was the council. They did it again. The condescending voice feels like little spiders crawling around on my brain, and slipping inside. No matter how hard I shake my head for the voice to fall out, it still lingers.

"The winner could be you."

Or the loser. The loser could be me. I could disappear into oblivion and never see the light of day ever again.

A herd of council members file onto the stage, rolling a giant glass ball filled with tiny slivers of paper. It's amazing. I've never seen anything like it.

The last to file onto the stage is the woman from the holograms and the reminders. She strides to the front of the giant glass contraption. Everybody stares with blank expressions. I guess this is it.

"I will begin with the two candidates from Sector A." she announces in an extremely steady voice for such an important task. I can tell that those in the darkest shade of gray (Sector A) are pissing their pants right now.

The woman proceeds to pressing random buttons on the glass contraption until a slip of paper suddenly pops out. Ever so slowly, she takes the paper with her polished finger tips and stares at it, with an unreadable expression on her face. The crowd goes too unnaturally quiet; a deafening silence, I'd say.

"336!" she exclaims, yet doesn't yell. A commotion corrupts to my left – everyone turns to see what's going on. There's a younger boy, maybe about 10 years old. He tries to shove his way back to his sector house, away from here, but the guards are already on him, and carrying him backstage. His broken screams are send shivers through me. I want to run and save him, I want to kill the council for forcing the little boy to leave everything he's ever known, but that can increase my chances of being selected. He keeps shouting no and it breaks my heart. Through the bodies, I can see his helpless legs flailing, but the guards are too strong. He then disappears backstage and his cries muffle out. And we're back to the deafening silence again, except it feels worse. I do not want to end up like that 336. I have no bitchy remarks for this one. I force an inhale, then exhale ten times slower. My muscles are too tense. _Breathe._

The woman on stage is unfazed. She proceeds to pressing the buttons again. Another slip of paper pops out abruptly. At an agonizingly slow pace, she takes the paper in her slender hands and enunciates the next name.

"3295!"

This time, a female voice gasp-cries behind me. We all turn and watch, unable to do anything to help her. She appears middle aged and she is so beautiful. Not pretty, beautiful. I can see it in her eyes. This time, I can see her expression; it hurts me somewhere deep inside. Her face contorts into an expression like she's about to cry, but she doesn't wail or sob. Silent tears roll down her cheeks as she shakes. I turn away, I can't watch or I might cry too. After finally being escorted away, she woman on stage prepares the names for Sector B. Holy shit, that's us.

"And now for the candidates of Sector B."

I immediately grab Two's hand. He squeezes my palm and I squeeze back. After pressing a few buttons and taking her sweet time, she finally reads out the name on the paper. I freeze and I'm unable to breathe right before she reads the name.

"13!"

What an interesting name. I don't see commotion at first. Everybody looks around, listening for cries, shouts, anything. But we hear none. The people in front of me step back to make a path for someone I can't see. I step back as well so I don't get squished. Someone walks through the crowd and directly to the front, with no fear. I catch a glimpse of a pair of silver eyes and I know right then that it's him. _Holy shit! _

The idiot who told me to shut up at training. The idiot who had the guts to stand up to me. The chestnut haired idiot who's walking right into the Shift, with no struggle. Now that's what I call bravery.

It's eerily silent as 13 disappears backstage. _Wow._

I'm not mentally ready for the woman to announce the next name, I need to recover from 13. But of course, she continues as soon as he's out of sight, and takes a fricking eternity to click the buttons and announce the next name. I'm dying inside. I can't take this.

"268!"

It takes a while for the shock to set in. I finally realize who she called when he lets go of my sweaty hand and trembles. I can't look, but I have to. Not my 268. He chews his lower lip and looks to me, but I don't know what to say. Good luck? No! He can't go. _What is this fucking council doing to my life? I hate it! I hate this life! Stop!_

"_Stop!" _the sound escapes me and I didn't even know I could be that loud. I thought I was just thinking it in my head.

"7, what are you doing?" he whispers to me in panic. I look into his eyes, then look up to the stage. My pulse pounds in my head. I feel everyone's eyes on me but refuse to look at their stupid expressionless faces. I don't know if what I'm about to do is aloud, but I couldn't bear to watch Two walk into the Shift. If he went, he'd never return. My voice trembles as I try to keep my tears inside of my body.

_ "__I-I volunteer as candidate!"_ I state in my strongest voice. It echoes eerily. The guards proceed to escorting me to that place backstage and I don't look back at Two, nor all the faces that stare at me. This is a stupid idea and I know it. But I couldn't let 268 do this. I never would've thought that I'd be the one volunteering… myself. _I guess I am single handedly killing myself._

**Ooooh SNAYP! Plot is about to commence. This is getting intense. Thanks so much for reading :) Sorry for the late update.**

**Also... check me out on Wattpad! Over there, I am bea_cuz. **

**-beacuzzzzz**


	9. Chapter 9

In the leather chair of the vehicle, I hold my body tight to stop the shaking and the sweating, but I shake and sweat even more. I force myself to straighten up in the chair and focus, but what is there to focus on? People's gazes awkwardly shift to me now and then, but I immediately look down, then out the window. I used to be able to stare them right back in the eye, make them regret looking at me in the first place, but not now.

They loaded us into some sort of moving vehicle contraption that hums quietly underneath our seats. Out the windows, I watch as the gray gradient community blurs past. This is all happening too quickly.

The seats are coloured dark blue, a change from the constant mix of gray. I sit alone in my section of four seats; two empty seats across from me. I guess nobody wants to sit with the freak. It's not like I can handle the glares anyway.

I long for the solid pavement of my community, for Two. I might never get those things ever again. All that I've known is lost. Only my memories remain, and even those are slowly slipping away with each piece of information the Shift committee rams into our heads.

Committee members all dressed in black walk down the aisle, in preparation to deliver more information nobody can digest, except maybe that idiot 13.

I want to turn back now, but there is no way I possibly can. The committee members block the aisles. I don't recognize them, except for One, who stands in the middle of their line. She appears to be skinnier than in the reminders. Her body is so much frailer and hollower, each bone pronounced like a punctuation or an accent. The skin acts merely as an off-white-coloured paint to coat her bones, and everything is pulled back way too tight. I turn away in disgust. She talks about rules, regulations, and more shit nobody cares about.

"…We will be meeting with the other community candidates in another facility. That will create a total of 16 of you competing."

"There's more of us?" A male voice asks from behind me.

"Well, how else can we have competition?" One replies.

Competition? "What are we even competing for?" I say, without realizing that I've said it.

One's eyes snap towards me.

"The Shift is a very serious matter. You'll find out why soon enough." She says. Soon, they're all marching down the aisle and disappearing into nowhere. I'm left even more confused. I let my head of hair fall into my hands as tears threaten to fall from my eyes. Volunteering for the Shift is the biggest mistake of my life.

Suddenly, there's a soft thud in front of me. I slowly raise my head to see 13 seated directly across from me.

"What the hell do you want?" I ask, annoyance taking over my voice. Unfazed, he continues to violently stare into my eyes with his stone cold ones.

"You want to know about the Shift?" he asks me. I sniff away the wetness from my eyes and nod. Ever so carefully, the guy leans over to me, as if to tell me something very important; his eyes never leave mine. I want to inch away, but my back stays on the chair.

"It's a battle. Everyone for themselves. You fight for one crown that frees you." His words are so sharp and so clear, but still, I don't understand. "If you win, you can join the committee and become a trainer. If you lose…"

"I don't want to become a trainer! I'd rather… lose." I pause to think about what I'm saying. He gives me a look that says to shut up, but I can't.

"And get killed? Do you want that?" He lowers his voice so that only I can hear. _Killed?_ "There can only be one winner, 7, eventually, we'd kill each other off to win."

I wanted to plug my ears and forget everything he told me, but it was too late, it couldn't be undone. I shook my head violently, not wanting to believe it.

"How do you even know all of this?" I whisper.

His expression changes.

"The video. At the selection, they told us. Were you not paying attention?"

"Of course not! I didn't want to hear any crap they had to say." His eyes form slits, obviously pissed off at me.

"Well that crap is important to your survival!" he whisper-shouts.

"Why are you even telling me this? I… hate you! You're so annoying." My temperature rises, along with the volume of my voice. 13 leans back again, ruffles his dark hair then rakes a hand through it. His hardened eyes leave mine then go to the window.

"Aren't you the one who wanted to know?" he asks. I gaze out the window as well, noticing the complete change in scenery. It's no longer blocks of grey everywhere. I find a brown abyss that never seems to end.

"I-I don't want to be here." I say, mostly to myself. 13 breaks the gaze to look at me, his eyes filled with so much anger, it almost scares me.

"Great. _I'll kill you first._" With that, he gets up and storms back to his spot. What was it with the idiot and his snide and hurtful remarks? I couldn't even imagine killing anyone for a stupid spot as a trainer. How am I going to survive?

All of a sudden, our vehicle dips and I find myself flailing to grab something. Everything seems an inch out of reach so I hold on tight to my seat. I know for sure that this was not in the video.


End file.
